


A fathers Love

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Holiday, Other: See Story Notes, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Harry Conkle tells Blair about his past which gets Blair thinking. Pre Slash for Jim And Blair.  Missing scene for Most Wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A fathers Love

## A fathers Love

by Bluesky

The Sentinel is not mine. No cash was made. The Sentinel is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. 

A big thanks to my betas - Candela, Saavaant, Annie, and Caro Dee. This is a lead in to the novel" Promises". That some day I will finish.

Contains description of child abuse and sexual slavery. Involves Partner betrayal, (Not Jim and Blair, but sets up how Jim feels about partner betrayal. 

This story is a sequel to: None 

* * *

A Father's Love 

* _Lindsay's apartment_ * 

Blair looked at the small infant gurgling and kicking happily in the crib, then up at the troubled face of the young mother, her long blond hair dangling in her face making her seem even younger than her eighteen years. 

"He hasn't been around for sixteen years of my life. He ruined my mom's life. Now he just shows up out of nowhere and expects to step in. Gives me money as if that is going to fix everything. Dirty money from his bank jobs." Lindsay turned away, her doubt obvious to Blair, who was used to observing human behavior. 

"You have a chance to resolve things. I never knew my father. I never had that chance." His blue eyes searched hers, debating whether to mention that fact that he knew that her father was dying. He suspected that Harry hadn't told her. He accidentally on purpose let it slip. Blair had never known his father. She should have a chance to know hers, before it was too late. 

* _Later that day at Lindsay's apartment_ * 

Harry held the boy. Tyler. Lindsay had named him after her mother's father, her grandfather. That man had hated him so much. He had been so sure that Harry would fail his little girl. Well, he had been right. But... 

This was his last chance to make things right. If he could. If he lived that long. 

Lindsay had gone out to buy some groceries. Blair sensed that she needed some time to process. The police officer had gone with her, trusting Blair to keep the old man from skipping. 

The baby was settled down and napping. Harry and Blair sat on the couch appraising one another. "I know you're just waiting for me to open up my mouth and spill everything, right?" Harry gave Blair a calculating look. 

"Hey, man. We have some time. If you want to talk, that's fine with me. I'm easy." Blair sat back into the deep couch and waited. It didn't take long. Harry was a man that had been wanting a confessor for a long time. 

"This is not going to be easy. I hope you don't mind if I tell it my way." Harry took his nod as consent. Harry leaned back and began his story 

Jack Cryss. Harry remembered the younger man, brash, rash, fast and smart. He had taken him into his plans, his style, his bed. In an ever-changing world, he became Harry's one constant. Harry's world had been put aside. Yes, he still loved his wife and his small child. But the thrill of Jack's world had overwhelmed him. And she would never understand the .. other side of him. Oh, he wasn't gay. Just that... men sometimes understood different needs. Some passions were too violent, too bloody for a delicate woman. Not something that had anything to do with love. At least, not at the start. 

After the first job, when the crew had been dispersed. Jack had been the last to be dropped off that time. Harry had been the driver that time. They had ended up back at the safe hole that Jack had set up for himself. 

The sex had been a rough and tumble struggle, riding the edge of non-consensual, as both fought for supremacy, to be the top, all pleasure taken, none given. More like rutting animals than human sharing. Harry had loved it. 

Harry had meant to go back to his wife and child. But there was Jack, his partner now. More than once, Jack had dropped an unsubtle hint that more than his criminal career would be exposed if he left him. It took Harry almost three years to really realize how cold-blooded and ruthless Jack truly was. 

The last straw came while they were on a vacation, one of the long extended trips that they did between jobs, living in the best of hotels in distant places, any indulgences that they wanted, anything that they wished. 

Jack had gotten two of the higher-priced fancy house whores, one for each of them. Women were a nice diversion, sort of a build up to or, sometimes, wind down from the interplay of their sexual interaction. It let them live with the myth that the jobs were what got them going--the head rush--the letting go of adrenaline--working off of steam without turning to risky unknown alternatives. 

The girl that he got was sweet, with dark hair, deep brown eyes, willing, hot and able to give him things that Jack never could. He laid back and held her firm hips as she rode him, her young, small breasts bouncing as she rode him to completion. 

Small, sweet, and Dark Island tanned, he held her tenderly, savoring the moment. He fell asleep, a rare unguarded moment. 

Harry woke up, the warm bundle pulled up from his arms. He had to stop his reflex fight response when he saw it was Jack, pulling a punch just an inch from his laughing face. 

"Hey. I just wanted to trade. Sounds like you had a great time. I just want to sample a bit of the local flavor. Don't worry, I've got yours all warmed up. Enjoy!" 

And that quick he was gone, the girl tossing a kiss over her shoulder at him, her laughing eyes a touch sad. The girl that had been entertaining Jack knelt by the side of his bed, long blond hair hiding her face. 

He reached out and tipped up her chin. Her hair fell back like a curtain, revealing light blue eyes, the left one blackened. Her mouth had some bruising and a trickle of blood from a cut at the corner of her mouth. 

But the worst part of it was how young she was. She could not be more than twelve years old, with her flat chest and slim hips, vulnerable and naked, bruised and, if not afraid, then wary and watchful. Oh, she had been doing this a long time. She regarded him from her knees, not flinching from his touch. 

"What's your name?" Harry was appalled. He pulled her up to sit on the bed. That's when he noticed the trickle of blood that ran down her leg. It was coming from her ass. That Jack had used and abused her so... he felt heartsick. It was one thing for grown men to play those sorts of games, but to do this to a woman, to a child... 

"Jack! You asshole! What the hell did you do! What were you thinking? This is just a kid!" Harry stood in the doorway of Jack's room. 

Jack was reclining on the bed, the dark-haired girl riding his cock with her mouth, bobbing enthusiastically, in long deep strokes, her hands tied behind her back. It was a game, one of his favorites, that the two of them played. Winner takes the loser. The girl must have given in easily. 

"Relax. The girls are paid for. We can cover any damage." Jack ruffled the hair of the girl giving him head. "If you're squeamish about doing her, you can take a second turn with Dawn here. She tells me she likes getting and giving at the same time. Don't you, darling?" She bobbed her head.. Not missing a beat or a stroke. 

"This girl is twelve if she's a day!" His rage was quiet, controlled, but Jack noticed it and grinned. 

"She's eleven. Get over it. White slave trade. This is all that she's ever known. Hell, we have them for a weekend. This is a paid vacation for them!" Jack turned his attention back to the girl, dismissing Harry. "I think that's enough. Show me something new." 

He went back to his room. The girl still sat there. "Get up." 

She looked up and obeyed without question. Stiffly, she got to her feet. More bruises. He handed her one of his shirts. She put it on, and it hung on her like a dress. Her large eyes in the small face reminded him of the sad puppies, kittens and children prints that his wife had up in their old apartment. The prints had gotten on his nerves, and a small part of him was sure that this is part of why he was gone so much. He felt guilty just looking at them. Confronted by the real thing, he was overwhelmed. 

"It's going to be okay, honey. I'm going to get you out of this." 

"I can't leave. I'll be punished. I have to stay here." 

"What's your name?" He looked at her wrists, noting the old bruising and scars from bondage devices, cuffs and ropes. 

"Linda." She was passive and stiff at the same time. Someone had broken her a long time ago. 

"Where are you from?" Blonde, blue-eyed children on this island had to be rare. 

She looked him out of the corner of her eye. "The house. You know. Your friend got us from there." 

Harry shook his head in frustration. "Before that." 

"I have always lived at the house." Her voice was flat. 

Harry had an idea. He pulled up her sleeve. High on her arm was the mark of an inoculation, the scar that most kids had from being inoculated before being taken overseas. He looked at the pattern. This kid was from America. How she had gotten here he had no idea--white slavery, family sold her, or most likely she had been taken from her parents and they had been killed, or stone-walled about finding her. He had no illusions about the scruples of men that trafficked in human flesh. 

He found her clothing in the connecting bathroom. It was a strange parody of little girl and whore, the sailor suite with the g-string and garters and padded bra. 

He handed the clothing to her. "Get Dressed. Clean up a bit." As she was doing that, he began to pull together his most important stuff. Anything that could be replaced, beyond a few day's worth of clothing, he left behind. With luck, Jack wouldn't even realize he was gone for a day or so. 

He left exactly Jack's cut of the last hits. The rest he stuffed into a special vest, divided into 1,000 pound note bundles, and filled his wallet with smaller denominations. He handed a small bag to Linda as she came out of the bathroom. Except for the black eye, she looked like a normal little girl. One that had seen too much and hurt too much, but... 

He handed her a beach towel and sunglasses. Let people think that he was a daddy taking his little girl to the beach. He donned his partner's sunglasses, picked up a beach towel, and headed out the door, the girl obediently following. 

He had connections. He had to use them quickly before the fact that he had left Jack became apparent. It took a small amount of time and a largish amount of cash to find out who the girl beside him was. At age five, she had been taking from her parents' hotel room here on the island, while they were sleeping. A trace led him to the fact that they were divorced, the mother living in NY, the father in DC. He debated for a moment as to which he would call, but in the end he called both. 

He dropped the child off at the U.S. consulate, along with a note and much of his cash, making sure that she knew that this was for her. A bribe to one of the staff let him know when she was going to be transported. 

It took less than a day. Both the father and the mother came to claim the child. Harry managed to be there to watch the reunion. 

Magic happens seldom in this world. He waited for the child to melt, to throw her arms around her parents, to cry, to be glad, to be something.. The first smile was when her mother gave her a large stuffed bear, much loved and worn. She hugged it and held it as she could not, would not, the strangers that were her parents. 

She looked carefully at the pair. "You're my parents?" She was not shy, just distant and aloof. In the end, she looked like she was warming up to them. Not the Christmas miracle that he had hoped for, but in the end, there was only so much one could do. 

Harry left, and headed towards his own flight. It was more than time to leave the island before Jack caught up with him. He hoped that he had done a good thing. He looked at the small faded photograph of his own daughter, sighed and put it away. 

Harry finished his story and took a sip of his water. His eyes met Blair's, looking for judgment or condemnation. 

"So Blair, now you know the truth about me." Harry regarded Blair, who had sat rapt as he told his story. "I couldn't save my own child. I traded the only relationship that I could count on for my partner, who I hoped I could count on." 

"Wow. I mean.. that an incredible story. The girl, Linda?" 

"Spent several years in therapy, and traded back and forth between her parents, fought over during holidays, suffers from PTSD, cuts herself, never eats, stabbed her one boyfriend." Harry shook his head. "I might have been better off just leaving her where she was. At least her life was stable." 

"No. You did the right thing." Blair took a deep cleansing breath. "She has a chance at a normal life. You gave her that chance." 

"I just hope that I have that chance with my girl. I have missed so much and I have so little time left. The clock is ticking..." Harry sighed. Blair was crashed out, head fallen back onto the sofa. Damn, the story couldn't have been that boring. Wait--the smell--gas.... With his fading perceptions, he recognized the gas that was his trademark being used on them. Thank God, Lindsay was out. Harry held his breath and struggled, trying to reach Tyler. He didn't make it. He fell just inside the room. 

When he came to, there was a note by his head in Jack's handwriting. After all the years he knew it. There was an address. He knew what he had to do. 

Blair was still out. He had to save his grandchild. Perhaps this was one child he could save. 

Jim smelled the knock out gas in the hallway as he approached the apartment, near odorless, mostly dispelled, but the same as Harry used before on the surveillance team. The door was open. Gun drawn, he entered. Blair was just coming to, sprawled on the couch. Checking him quickly, he opened his senses. No one else was in the apartment. Not the old man, Lindsay, the baby. 

Just then Lindsay and her police escort walked in. Her frantic search for her child told him what he already knew. The baby was gone. Along with Harry. Kidnapped. 

They were so screwed. 

* _Cascade Police Department_ * 

The FBI agents were riding him hard and heavy. It was a welcome relief when Rafe interrupted. He made a show of reluctance about being dragged away, hiding his relief. 

He took the phone call. Under the voice scrambler, he could hear Harry's voice. An invitation to a job. A bank job. He memorized the number, and calmly left the station, leaving the two FBI men to simmer in their own juices and Simon at their dubious mercy. 

* _Warehouse_ * 

The job had gone off as planned... almost. The possibility that Jack might turn on Harry was a chance that Harry was willing to take for the sake of the boy. 

Harry knew Jack had a grudge against him, and his long ago partner never forgot or forgave. His only concern at this point was doing what he could to prevent his grandchild from being killed. 

Calling Jim Ellison had been a calculated risk. He knew that Jack was going to kill him, but not until after the job--he was practical like that. Jack had never been very inventive and he had stuck to the formula that Harry had devised--the carefully orchestrated plan that had pulled off so many successful bank jobs. His only hope was Ellison. He was a decent man, he would see that the child was safe, that his daughter was taken care of. 

The showdown went as expected. Jack had always gone for the theatrics, for the drawing out of pain, for the pleasure of gloating, A child's life hung in the balance, and Harry sacrificed himself. The bullet tearing its way into his gut, he watched as Jim gunned down Jack. It was extremely painful, but he could only think of his grandchild, and Jim's reassurance that Tyler was okay. 

His ex-partner lay on the concrete floor. Once this man had held as much of his heart as he could spare. They were partners in crime, partners in bed, but he knew that Jack's vicious nature was going to get him or someone else killed eventually. And it had. He had killed two bank guards, a totally unnecessary act. Harry tried to think about that. Jack deserved to die. He had been framing Harry for the robberies and killing of the bank guards, that he would do whatever he wanted, and never care about who he hurt 

"The boy, check on him." Harry clutched at the bleeding hole in his gut. He would live through this. If his grandchild had been hurt then he would not. Jim picked up the baby, gently bouncing him and baby-talking. Harry sighed with relief. He had not failed this time. 

Jack was dead. He took his secrets with him, the important ones. 

And only Blair knew the truth. Somehow, he felt that his secrets were safe with him. 

When the ambulance arrived, the paramedic that went to check on Jack's body made the discovery that Jack was still alive. Both men were bundled up and transported to the hospital. Jack remained unconscious during the trip. Harry had a chance to watch Jack's face as the paramedics worked on him. He looked so--well, not innocent. He would never look that. But it was a face that he had once loved, as much as he had dared. 

* _The Penitentiary - three months later_ * 

"Hello, Blair." Harry face was pinched, the chemo had made some of his hair fall out and he had lost some weight. But he looked good, at peace. 

"Hey, how's it going?" Blair grinned, up beat as usual. 

"Great. I've got four more weeks left of chemo, then we have to see what the tests show." 

"Good. Great. Glad to hear that. I brought a picture of Tyler. Lindsay is coming this weekend." Blair handed over the photo of a smiling baby staring with rapt attention at something in the distance. The Santa hat had tipped rakishly over his blue eyes. A happy baby, a dreamer. 

"Thanks, Blair. You don't know how much this means to me." He took a deep breath. "This will be the first Christmas that I have spent with my little girl since she was near the boy... near Tyler's age. I never expected to live to this Christmas, let alone have that gift." 

"How are you coping?" Blair looked Harry in the eyes. 

"Good. Good. Jack is going to be transferred here. I had thought for sure Jim got him. There is a part of me that is almost glad that he is alive. Almost. He'll be out of the hospital in a few weeks." 

"How are you going to deal with that?" Concern wrinkled Blair's brow. 

"One day at a time. We were partners once. More. Prison makes all men equal, or it makes some men kings. Who knows?" 

The time was up too soon. Blair took his leave, and headed down to the parking lot, Musing over that last look on Harry's face, thinking about the prospect of Jack joining him in confinement. It wasn't anything that Blair could understand, but Harry was looking almost... hopeful. 

Despite everything that had happened, Harry still loved, or at least wanted, Jack. What was it he had said... oh yes, sex between them had been very hot--graphically hot--give a straight man ideas hot. 

And about your partner. How could he do that? Forgive a man that had tried to kill you? Still want him in your bed? Why would someone forgive someone that had nearly gotten you killed? Must be love, or some deeper emotion that had less to do with love and more to do with need and ownership. 

Blair stopped short. Harry had left Jack. Jack had gotten even worse. Sort of like Alex. Her partner betrayed her and she killed him. Both of them were into high stakes games and didn't care who got hurt. Was Jack some sort of rogue sentinel? Was Harry some sort of Guide? Jim had gotten him killed, so to speak. Had kicked him out of the loft. Gone to her arms. He had been betrayed and betrayer. The whole thing with Alex had been one huge string of misunderstandings and confused senses. But still he had forgiven Jim. And Jim had forgiven him. 

For a moment he flashed on the thought of Jim in his combat mode, nothing more than skin paint and just enough clothing to hold his weapons on. He remembered the sight of the sunlight on his tight firm chest, smooth skin rippling with each movement. It took on a whole different meaning right now. 

A rash thought of offering himself up to his Sentinel on Christmas Day, wearing nothing but a bow flashed before him, a ribbon binding his hands behind his back as he made a willing offering of love. A flash of arousal shoot through him. 

'Get a grip!' Blair told himself, sternly. Best case scenario, Jim would shake his head and walk away. Worst case, Jim would be so freaked that he would slowly become more and more distant. He wasn't worried about getting kicked out again--Jim had promised that would never happen again. But there were worse things than being kicked out. 

Blair took a quick trip back to the bathroom to give himself a few moments to calm down. The strong smell of the antiseptic soap would make Jim dial down his sense of smell and, hopefully, he wouldn't detect any trace of his ill-timed arousal or the sudden stink of fear. 

It was a cruel trick, knowing how much Jim hatted to be reminded of prison, after his undercover stay there, but better that than the alternative. By the time, he hit the parking lot, his composure was back to normal. What he had now was way too important to mess up with something as silly as a sexual itch, easily scratched elsewhere. 

Jim was a great guy. And he loved him. No way was he going to risk that for anything. And he still had his thesis to do. Maybe later, after the work was done, he take a chance. Stop being the observer and let himself take a more.... He let that thought hang. 

Jim was waiting with the truck. Snow was just starting to fall softly. The sound of Christmas music was coming from the radio. 

"Hey. Thanks for waiting. Busses are a pain to get out of here .You'd think that they would send more busses out on a holiday, instead of cutting them back." 

"No problem. How are you doing? How is he holding out?" 

"About as well as can be expected. He's dealing with things. Jack, chemo, all of it. Lindsay is going to bring his grandson to see him tomorrow." 

"It's hard to betray a partner, even after they have betrayed you. It kills a part of you, inside." 

"Jim, we're partners, right?" Blair looked up into Jim's eyes, searching for some truth or enlightenment. 

"Yep." Jim frowned. "Where are you going with this, Sandburg?" 

"What would you do if a partner ever betrayed you?" 

"Start thinking of places to hide the body." 

"'No way! Really? Remind me not to piss you off." Blair grinned and pulled his muffler tighter around his neck. 

"Something that you're not telling me, Chief? Should I be getting out the shovel?" Jim punched Blair lightly on the shoulder. 

"Naw, I was just wondering about having a dad--whether I was better off not ever knowing mine. How it would feel to find out if my dad was someone like Harry, or worse, someone like Jack." 

"You're a bit old to be pushed on the swing set. Getting sentimental?" Jim pulled out into the street, the wipers pushing the new falling snow off the windshield, snow crunching under the wheels. 

"It's just the season. Naomi is off on a retreat. She will be coming to visit soon, but she just doesn't know when. It won't be for Christmas though." 

Blair looked out the window at the falling snow, lost in thought. "Lindsay is going to bring Harry's grandson to see him tomorrow. How about you? Have you got any plans for Christmas?" 

"Just want to kick back and relax, enjoy a day off, you know, be of good cheer. Why do you ask?" 

"I just was wondering if there was someone special you wanted to spend it with." 

"I do. Me, myself and you." Jim looked at Blair, puzzled. "Unless you have some better plans...." 

"Naw, just.... Hey, want to go to Wonder Burger? " 

"On Christmas Eve? Sure. Santa must have come early!" 

Thank God that sentinels have the attention span of gerbils. Wave a fat burger under his nose and he forgot all about where the line of questioning was going. 

And that was a trip that Blair was not sure that he was ready to take. 

By mutual agreement, they did not get a tree, but the loft was decorated with fairy lights, wound around the support pillars, and over the railing in the loft. The scent of pine came from a wreath, that hung on the outside of the door, far enough that Jim could dial own, but close enough that he could enjoy it if he wished. 

* _Christmas morning_ * 

Blair pulled up the small table and sat, legs crossed in meditation, several naturally scented candles grounding him, cinnamon and vanilla, the base scent honey from the beeswax. Smells that were warm and comforting. It took a moment for him to realize that Jim had come down from his bedroom. The smell of coffee permeated the loft--the expensive kind, the kind that Yuppies drank in overpriced coffee bars. 

"Simon gave me some coffee for Christmas. Figured that this was as good a day as any to use it. " 

"Wow! Thanks, Jim. I mean... you had better be sharing. You do not make coffee like that and not share." 

"Got you covered." Jim handed Blair his brick red mug filled with the heady Aramaic coffee. 

"Thanks!" Blair stretched and took a sip. "Man, this is just what I needed!" 

"Oh Chief? Merry Christmas." Jim tossed a carefully wrapped, soft package to him 

"Oh thanks, Jim. You didn't have to do that. I mean, I haven't had a chance to get you anything." Blair tore the paper open. A half dozen pairs of argyle socks spilled out into his hands. 

"It's okay, Chief. I have a selfish reason for it." Jim's grin was wide and amused. He watched and sipped his coffee, enjoying Blair's reaction to the gift. 

"Wow.. Gee, thanks, Jim! These are the best! How did you know?" 

"You leave your socks all over the place. Can't help but see the holes in them. And the sound when you walk?" Jim hid his embarrassment at Blair's gratitude in a swallow of coffee. 

"Well, thanks. These are great!" Blair started heading to his room but a reproving look from Jim sent him back to gather up the scattered wrapping paper. 

On his way to the black trash can in the kitchen, Jim noogied his partner. "Merry Christmas, Chief." 

Blair swung in under his arm and grabbed his Sentinel around his waist. "Merry Christmas, Jim." For a rare and tender moment, the two hung in mid moment, smiling at each other. In the distance, a bell started to ring for Christmas mass. 

And the moment passed. Breakfast was made, football was watched, a late shift was worked. 

And Blair wore the socks that Jim had given him and they made him feel extra safe and warm. 

And loved. 

Epilogue 

* _The Penitentiary - Christmas Day_ * 

"Hi, Dad! Hey, Tyler, wave! That's your grandpa!" Lindsay smiled at her father through the glass. 

"How's the boy doing?" Harry waved back at the child on her lap. "How are you doing?" 

"We're doing good. I'm going to go back to school to get my GED, and then maybe go to college." 

"That's great! Oh, I made you a gift. You can get it when you leave." 

"Thanks, Dad. I'll love it no matter what it is." 

Merry Christmas! 

* * *

End A fathers Love by Bluesky: Desidera21@aol.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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